Jul. 10: Relay for Life 2012

This past weekend, finally, was Relay for Life. During the months
of planning leading up to July 7 and 8, I was eager to participate. Friends and
family motivated me further as they registered for our team and asked how they could
help with fundraising. My spirits were high; Relay is an event I've really come to enjoy.

If you’ve been involved with Relay before, you know that much of its 24-hour length is a roller coaster of emotions, topped with an exceedingly powerful reminder of the hope we have
to find a cure for that asshole of a disease, cancer. It’s exciting to honor
the survivors at Relay, and the event planners give us lots of opportunities to
celebrate that we’re still here. Caregivers are also given special recognition. The Luminaria ceremony is a touching and
solemn time to honor everyone who's ever heard the words "You have cancer," and a time to remember loved ones who lost their fight. Relay truly honors everyone.

I expected that Relay would be as emotional an experience as
it’s been in the past two years. But when Relay day actually arrived, I felt
detached from the celebration part of it. I mean, I participated in all of the survivor activities
and fundraised my ass off, but I could tell I wasn’t
all in. It was as though part of my brain had shut off—the part that would
have let me break down into a crumpled mess of snotty tears on the track. And I say that it was my brain, not my heart, because my heart is a big idiot that doesn't know when too much is too much.

Apparently this was too much.

I can't share the specifics of WHY it was too much (I'm not even sure what they are), but here's what I know:

I'm fine, health-wise. Ish. Actually, today I had an 18-month post-treatment scan and it looked good, so there is little to worry about there.

I'm exhausted from staying up too late for too many nights, stressing over silly stuff, and trying to make everything be perfect.

I've slept at least 18 hours a day for the past three days.

My mom is fabtaculous.

The part of my brain that shut off was apparently the part that knew when to apply sunscreen. I am very, very ouchy.

The good news is that our little event raised $60,000 for American Cancer Society, and our team was responsible for nearly $4,000 of that. Cancer can sooooo suck it.

P.S. Please ignore the straight quotes and apostrophes. I have NOT the energy to fix them.

facts of jen's life

So, who do you think you are? I think I’m Jen. People who don’t know me sometimes call me Jenny. That’s weird.

Tell me about yourself. I was born a small black child, and am now a grown-up, or at least my kids think I am. I’m in my mid-40s and live in the ‘burbs of Portland, Oregon. My husband is Victor, and my kids are Katie and Jack. Read this if you want the real and very long scoop.

Tell me things people might not know about you. I am an ordained minister and can perform marriages. Why no one has asked me to do this for them yet, I do not know. ● At the request of my Disney-hating friend Ed, I got mouse ears embroidered with the name “Satan” and I didn’t even get kicked out of Disneyland. It’s quite possibly the ballsiest thing I’ve ever done. ● I “helped” write this book, published in 2012: You Take it From Here, by Pamela Ribon. My name is in the back, and I’m still geeking out about it. ● I recorded a song in a studio in 1994 and it got local radio play for a few months. At least two times I turned on the radio in the car and my song was playing at that moment—very cool. ● I nearly died from a zit in 1986. I am not making this up. ● Victor and I once appeared on The Tonight Show. Really. If you can find a VCR, I’ll show you the tape.

I read some of your posts and I think you might be an alcoholic. I drink way less than I write about drinking. If I ever STOP talking about booze, then it’ll be time for an intervention.

If you could punch anything or anyone in the face, what/who would it be? Cancer. I was diagnosed with lymphoma in November 2009. I kicked its big fat ugly ass and am in remission now. ● Comic Sans. ● People who won’t take responsibility for their problems—the “I didn’t do anything to deserve this!” attitude. Look in the mirror. That’s who to blame. ● Celebrities who are famous for no reason. Y’know, if we stop looking, they’ll go away... ● Bad grammar and spelling and the dummies who use it.

You seem bitter. Did someone piss in your Cheerios? I’m not bitter. I think unicorns-and-rainbows stuff isn’t very interesting to read, so I tend not to write that way. But also, now you’re being kind of a jackhole.

It seems like no one ever comments on your blog posts. Why is that? Most people comment on the Facebook links. I don’t know why.

What if I want to tell you something? Two ways to reach me: leave a comment on a post, or e-mail me at jenniferTAKETHISPARTOUTmanullang at gmail-dot-com.